Jen’s story
Jen outlines her experience of burnout, reflecting on pressure at work, anxiety, and her development of chronic fatigue syndrome as a result.
"Burnout isn’t a sign of weakness, but our body’s way of keeping us safe when we can’t do it ourselves."
When you wake up feeling like you’re on a boat, head spinning and stomach churning, only to realise it’s 7 a.m. and you’re in bed, you know something’s gone wrong. That morning, my body decided it was done. It threw me overboard with the worst vertigo I’d ever known.
At the time, I was working under leadership where sickness was seen as a weakness. Comments about appearance were common, misogyny was normal, and the pace was relentless. There was no time to take breaks, but at least there were Pizza Fridays. I was the golden child – always meeting deadlines, keeping the peace and never causing conflict, no matter how toxic things became. A week after the vertigo, I went back to work, still dizzy, still swaying, because I didn’t want to be the next target.
During all of this, my biggest support at work, my manager, was diagnosed with ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome) and made redundant. When she left, so did the safety in that workplace. Anxiety took over and my focus began to slip. Then, I caught a virus that never seemed to go away. Exhaustion followed and has stayed ever since. At the same time, I had a lot on my plate, including moving house three times in six months. My therapist told me to stop, properly stop, before my body did it for me.
Soon after, I was bedbound for three months with post-viral fatigue. Eventually, I moved to a slower job, hoping a change of pace would help me recover. A year later, I was diagnosed with ME/CFS, just like my old manager. It wasn’t coincidence or mold in the office; it was burnout.
My body had been sounding the alarm for years and I’d ignored it. My therapist said my immune and nervous systems had been under so much stress that my body shut down to protect me.
Even now, I still feel the pressure to keep working full-time and to push through the illness. I had to give up my dream job, but that loss also gave me space to rest and start listening to my body.
Today, I’m slowly recovering and creating environments that support me, something I wish workplaces did without a fight. Finding a Disability Confident employer can feel impossible; even the reasonable adjustments feel like a secret negotiation. I refuse to let ME/CFS dictate my life through fear of doing too much. I’m learning to regulate my nervous system and create an environment that supports rather than drains me. Along the way, I discovered I’m neurodivergent, which finally helped me understand why I ignored all of my needs.
Environment is everything, whether it’s work, home, or the space we hold within ourselves. Burnout isn’t a sign of weakness, but our body’s way of keeping us safe when we can’t do it ourselves.



